


Together

by Millennial_Medusa



Series: PJO/HOO Baseball AU [3]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baseball, F/M, Gen, Grover deserves more appreciation, I'm Bad At Tagging, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 10:23:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15532167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Millennial_Medusa/pseuds/Millennial_Medusa
Summary: Percy's the best pitcher the Demigods have, but Chiron brings to his attention something that puts his place on the team (and even at the university) at risk.





	Together

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little angst with a happy ending (bc I'm a slut for happiness ok) for the baseball au! Takes place Percy's sophomore year if that isn't clear.
> 
> Based on this tumblr request: "LOOOOOVE the pjo baseball au!! I’d love to see an angsty fic (maybe where Percy almost gets kicked off the team because of his grades or something?)"

“What the actual hell, Percy?” came Jason’s shout from his position across from him.

Percy just grinned. “Isn’t a catcher supposed to actually catch the ball, Grace?” Jason pressed his mouth into a firm line, adjusting his mask and quirking an eyebrow. Percy recognized this look, and it only made his cheeky grin widen.

“Isn’t a pitcher supposed to actually pitch to the strike zone? You don’t even have to bat. You _literally_ have one job,” Jason shot back. He tossed another ball Percy’s way.

Percy had a retort on the tip of his tongue, but Chiron had called everyone over. After a short debrief, the team headed to the locker room, but Percy turned back at the sound of Chiron calling his name.

“I’d like a word,” the coach explained. Percy didn’t like the apprehension in his tone, and found himself playing with the strings on his glove nervously as they waited for the rest of the team to disappear towards the locker room.

Chiron Brunner was a man well into his forties with dark, curly hair, a well trimmed beard, and the general manner and appearance of a professor. His wheelchair, tweed jackets, and wire-rimmed glasses did not, unsurprisingly, lead people to the immediate assumption that he was a coach, but he was easily the best baseball coach on the Eastern coast. He was kind, but knew how to handle unruly college-aged boys, and his soft-spoken but firm manner demanded respect from each player.

Percy, over the last two and a half years, had grown especially close to the man, and Chiron had taken on a sort of paternal mentor role in his life. Percy was used to laid back interactions (except when he was drilling the team; he was a force to be reckoned with if his players weren’t giving him the performance he expected of them) with him, so the drawn look on Chiron’s face immediately set him on edge.

“What’s up, Coach?” Percy asked finally, watching the door swing shut behind Connor Stoll. They were alone on the field.

“Percy, how long have you been playing baseball?”

The question threw Percy, and he blinked a few times before finding his voice to respond. “Um…pretty much since I was old enough to hold a bat?”

“And in all those years, who, in your experience, plays the most important role in the game?”

Once again, a question Percy did not see coming. He frowned, unsure of the intention behind or direction of this conversation, and hesitantly answered, “Everyone has an important job to do, the whole team has to work together to—”

Chiron waved him off. “I know. You’re right, of course, but I want you to think critically, Percy. One position is pivotal, its strength and dependability imperative to the success of the team as a whole.” He waited, his gaze fierce and expectant.

“The pitcher,” he answered at last.

“That’s right,” Chiron said, squinting upward as the sun peeked out from behind the clouds. It was mid-October and there was a slight chill in the air, but after a two hour practice, Percy could still feel beads of sweat rolling down his spine. “If any other player has an off day or makes a mistake, the results are negative—but limited. A strikeout, a runner on base, perhaps even a run for the other team. But the pitcher cannot afford to have bad days. A shaky pitcher that throws easy hits or walks batter after batter instead of striking them out is a pitcher that allows the other team to score, allows them to snatch victory without really having to fight for it.”

Percy felt his stomach turn a little. He knew all of this, of course, but he didn’t enjoy being reminded of the constant pressure he was under when on the mound, reminded that once his best isn’t enough he’s the first to be replaced. It helped that he wasn’t the only pitcher, not even the starter, despite being the best—Chiron had seen how far Percy would push himself to avoid being taken out of a game, how much he hated having to relinquish control to someone else, and begun keeping him in the bullpen until the fourth inning or so.

But even knowing there were other guys carrying the weight with him, it was a lot to handle.

“Percy,” Chiron said firmly, and he met the older man’s gaze again. “You and I both know you’re the best pitcher we have. Frankly, you’re one of the best college pitchers I’ve seen in a very long time.”

A comment like that, especially from someone like Chiron, was no small compliment, and the weight started to lift off of Percy’s shoulders. He still wasn’t sure where this conversation was going, but he was liking the direction a little better now—

“But that is not enough.”

“Wh-what?” Percy stuttered, his heart sinking.

“You aren’t a professional player yet. You’re a student, and playing for this team means you must maintain your responsibilities to the school as well as to the team,” Chiron explained cautiously.

The sun disappeared behind clouds once again, and the air cooled slightly.

“Yes…” Percy answered, still confused.

Chiron watched him intently, expectantly. Percy wished the dots would suddenly connect, that he could give the response Chiron wanted, but he was more than a little lost and growing more agitated by the minute.

At last, Chiron relented with a sigh. “Have you checked your grades recently?”

A cold ball of dread formed in the pit of his stomach. “No, sir.”

“I try to keep out of it and let you boys regulate yourselves, but I do need to check at times for the sake of the team. The school has a very strict academic eligibility policy, regarding credit hours and minimum GPA.”

“I’ve been taking more than the required hours,” Percy protested. “The minimum is twelve. I’ve been taking fifteen each semester!”

“Yes, but you must also maintain at least the minimum GPA required to graduate. You’re still at a 2.5, but Percy…” Chiron paused, folding his hands in his lap and watching him carefully. His frown deepened, making him look older, more weathered. “You’re failing two classes, and the others are dangerously low.”

_"What?"_

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid if you cannot raise your grades, they will lower your GPA below the minimum for next semester, and—”

“And I won’t be eligible for the team,” Percy finished, his tongue thick in his mouth and a wave of nausea and panic settling over him. He felt as if he’d eaten a truckload of bad shellfish.

Chiron nodded grimly. “You’re smart, Percy. It’ll take some work, but I know you have it in you. All you have to do is pass them, but I’d like to see better from you. You can do more than just pass.”

An acrid taste filled Percy’s mouth. He sounded so certain, but Percy couldn’t share his confidence. He had insider knowledge that Chiron didn’t: he knew himself.

Despite his doubt, he couldn’t stand the thought of letting the coach down, so he nodded, trying to summon a smile or at least the confidence to straighten his back. He wasn’t sure how successfully he pulled off either of those attempts, but a tense smile pulled tightly across Chiron’s face, so they must have been good enough.

—

Percy went with the rest of the team to the academic center after practice like they always did on Thursdays, but it felt wrong.

He couldn’t tell them what was going on, brushing off even Jason’s questions about why Chiron had held him after. He was already becoming a leader, even as a sophomore; he didn’t need them thinking he wasn’t serious about playing or even sure to be on the team for the upcoming season.

Ironically, Percy noted bitterly, the pressure to do well actually made studying harder. His focus was all over the place, never settling long enough to read more than a couple sentences—and “read” was a loose term, because the letters and numbers kept floating off the page until Percy got sick of the algebra he was trying to do in his head just to get through a sentence and got distracted by something else.

Frustrated, he slammed his textbook shut and ran a hand through his hair, trying to ignore the remnants of his conversation with Chiron that kept replaying themselves, reminding him of the pressure he was under, of the expectations Chiron and the team had for him, of his own insufficiencies. The churning in his stomach had progressed from panic and dread to something worse, something burning, searing, consuming him from the inside.

Hopelessness. The word drifted up from his subconscious, naming the rotting sensation spreading from his gut. He figured this must be how insects felt when one of those creepy wasps laid eggs inside them, and the larvae hatched and ate them from the inside out. He hated those things; they’d been in a documentary Annabeth had made him sit through.

Annabeth. No, no no _no,_ how was he going to tell Annabeth, the most brilliant person Percy had ever met, that she was dating someone so stupid he couldn’t even maintain the minimum GPA required to graduate? Annabeth had a 4.0. Annabeth had her whole life planned, Annabeth was in honors classes and going to grad school and becoming an architect and she couldn’t be with someone who was failing out of his classes and couldn’t even do the one thing he was actually good at.

Percy’s breathing was getting shallower.

“Percy?” Jason sounded concerned, but his voice was distant.

Baseball was the only thing he was good at, what he lived for. It’s what had kept him out of trouble at school, out of the house when his abusive stepdad was home.

It’s what was keeping him in college at all.

“Percy?” The room was starting to get hazy. Jason’s voice was further away.

How could he be so _stupid?_ He was here on an athletic scholarship, so if he got kicked off the team…he wouldn’t be able to afford to stay. He’d have to move home, figure out what to do with the rest of his life without a degree or a girlfriend or any valuable skills, and _shit,_ how was he gonna face his mom and tell her her son’s a complete failure?

“Percy!”

He clutched his stomach and bolted for the bathroom, reaching a toilet just in time to empty the contents of his stomach. He stumbled back to the door and locked it, thankful he was alone as he slid to the ground. He pulled his phone from his pocket—his hands were shaking, his whole body was shaking—and stared down at the background: a selfie he’d taken a few months ago with Annabeth. He was pressing a kiss to her cheek and she was laughing, leaning into him. She rolled her eyes a little whenever she saw it, told him she hated how she looked when she laughed. He pretended not to see the blush and pleased smile that she hid from him.

Slowly, painfully slowly, his heart rate slowed, and he regained some control over his breathing. Swallowing hard, he unlocked his phone and went to his contacts before holding his phone up to his ear and praying he wouldn’t get sent to voicemail.

“Hello?”

Percy let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Grover?”

—

Within half an hour, Percy had made his excuses to the team—“I’m just not feeling great, I’m gonna go home and sleep it off,” he’d insisted, though Beckendorf and Jason had both seemed more than a little skeptical—dropped his stuff at his dorm, and made his way to Grover’s room down the hall.

Grover was an RA, something Percy had made fun of him for many, many times, but he had to admit that the position had its perks—namely, getting a room all to yourself. Percy could frequently be found in Grover’s room playing video games or having a movie night when he wasn’t sleeping over at Annabeth’s apartment.

Now, Percy found himself seated on Grover’s incredibly old (but incredibly comfortable) green thrifted couch, his leg bouncing while he tried to focus on what Grover was telling him about his girlfriend, Juniper, and an internship offer she’d gotten for next summer.

Suddenly, Percy realized Grover had moved from that topic of discussion to repeating Percy’s name impatiently.

“Huh?”

Grover sighed, leaning forward where he was seated on his bed. “Are you gonna tell me what this is about?”

“You’re my best friend, Grover, I can’t just come hang out when I feel like it?”

“I didn’t kick Juniper out just for you to come zone out on my couch, so you better have a decent reason.”

Percy kicked himself mentally. “Shit, man, I didn’t realize she was here. She’s not mad, is she? You could’ve said no or told me to come later or something, it’s not that big of a—”

Grover rolled his eyes. “She needed to get to work anyway, and I wouldn’t have asked her to leave unless something was up. Which there is. You just won’t tell me what.”

Percy stared down at the tile floor, but couldn’t bring himself to admit what was wrong.

“Percy.” He glanced up and met Grover’s gaze; he was serious now, anxiously searching Percy’s face. “I know you. I’ve known you for a long time. When you called me, you sounded…bad. Like,” he faltered a little, searching for the words. “You sounded like you used to when you’d call me after a panic attack.”

The couch was suddenly lumpy beneath him, but he was stuck to the spot, blinking up at Grover wordlessly.

This seemed to confirm Grover’s suspicions, because he nodded once, somberly. “What happened? You haven’t had once of those in…”

“A long time,” Percy spoke finally, his voice rasping in his throat. He cleared it before continuing, “Not since we’ve been here. The last one was before Gabe’s last big fight with my mom our junior year.”

“Right,” Grover answered, his mouth pressing into a firm line at the memory. Percy shared his aversion; it wasn’t a time in his life he especially liked reliving.

“Grover…” Percy sucked in a breath. “Chiron told me I’m failing two of my classes, and the rest are bad enough that if I can’t fix them by the end of the semester, my GPA will be so low, I…I won’t be eligible for the team next semester.”

He watched as Grover seemed to connect the dots. “But if you’re off the team—”

“I lose my scholarship,” Percy finished hoarsely. “I won’t be able to come back next semester, or at all.”

“So we get your grades up. And if that’s not enough there’s always loans, and—”

“Not an option.” Percy ran his hands up and down his thighs, trying to wipe off the sweat that was quickly collecting on his palms. “It wouldn’t be enough, especially with the way my grades are looking now. Besides, if I can’t play ball after college I don’t think paying off loans is really on the table.”

“What about Paul? Doesn’t he have some money?”

“I can’t ask that of him, and now they’ve got Estelle to worry about. I’m telling you, without this scholarship I’m out.” Percy’s voice cracked as he finished.

“So, like I said. We get your grades up.” Grover sounded exponentially more confident than Percy felt, but it only made him feel worse. So he was another person Percy was just going to let down. “What did Annabeth say about it?”

The tile floor was very interesting all of a sudden. “I…haven’t told her,” Percy admitted, running a nervous hand through his hair.

“Well I’m sure she’ll have a plan, Annabeth is great at this sort of thing.”

“No,” Percy yelped, “she can’t know. You can’t tell her, seriously.”

Grover was staring at him like he’d grown a third eye. “Why not?”

“I just…she’s some kind of genius, or something, and if she knew how much of an idiot I am…I can’t lose her, okay?”

“Percy.” Grover’s tone was soft but firm. “You’re not an idiot. Classes are hard, especially when you’re trying to balance them and playing a sport.”

Percy’s heel tapped out an erratic pattern on the ground.

“And Annabeth loves you, she wouldn’t just up and leave you because you need a little help academically.”

Deep down, Percy knew Grover was right. Annabeth was many things—stubborn, petulant, gorgeous, ruthless, brilliant,—but she was not shallow. And she especially did not walk out on the people who were depending on her.

But Percy couldn’t stand the thought of disappointing her, of letting her down.

“I’m gonna fix this,” he said at last. “I’m gonna really study and pass my classes, and I need your help.”

“Of course,” Grover agreed immediately. “C’mon, dude, as if I’d let you down?”

Percy smiled a little at that, but it quickly faded. “But you can’t say anything to Annabeth.”

Grover stared back at him blankly. “Are you serious? Did you not hear anything I just—”

“I did, and you’re right,” Percy assured him, “but she doesn’t need to be dealing with this right now, okay? I’ve got it.” _Maybe,_ he thought, _if I say that enough times it’ll be true._

Grover hesitated before nodding tensely. “Only because it’s your place to tell her, not mine. But this is a bad idea, you’re terrible at hiding stuff from her.”

“Sure, but how hard could this be?” Percy asked, the knot in his stomach loosening just the slightest bit.

—

As it turned out, it was extremely hard.

Percy hadn’t realized just how well Annabeth could read him until he was making up excuses to leave the apartment or come home late—because if she knew he was studying so much more than usual she’d want to know why and she knew him too well to believe any bullshit “uh just felt like it”—and either he was a terrible liar or she was a psychic.

After a few days of spending every free moment at the library or academic center (with little success in making himself focus as much as he should, unfortunately), Annabeth’s concerned glances and suspicious frowns turned into passive aggressive comments.

“Oh, sure,” she’d snark, “I’ll just be here, cooking us dinner for the fourth time in a row. Don’t offer to help or anything.” Or, “Goodnight, Percy! Yeah, I know it’s only four in the afternoon, but by the time you get back I’ll probably be asleep. Again.” Or, “You’re still planning on paying rent, right? I know you’re barely living here anymore, but your name is on the lease, too.”

The comments made him feel guilty, and he promised to make up the time he missed spending with her, but he was running out of excuses and she was running out of patience. After a week, her passive aggression turned to outright aggression. He really couldn’t blame her; he’d been out every night and had barely been home most days. If she’d done it to him he probably would’ve thought she was sick of him.

Currently, he was attempting (poorly) to explain why he had to go to Jason’s apartment at 6 PM on a Friday night.

“He needs help with a paper?” Annabeth deadpanned. “On a Friday night?”

“He doesn’t want to have to do it over the weekend.”

“And he asked you for help?”

“Um, yeah.”

Annabeth’s eyes narrowed, and Percy swallowed. He hated being on the receiving end of her scrutiny. “I’ve edited your papers, Seaweed Brain. You’re not the best person to ask for help.”

“Well, no, but he…” Percy floundered for a moment, “it’s really more for moral support than. You know. Actual writing.”

“And this couldn’t wait for a night that wasn’t our date night?”

“I mean, half of our date nights are just staying in and watching a movie anyway,” Percy argued, trying for nonchalance but falling short by…well, a lot.

Evidently this was the wrong thing to say, because Annabeth’s eyes hardened in a way that made Percy fear for his life a little. “Right. So our time together doesn’t matter. Good to know.” She disappeared into their bedroom, leaving Percy to rush after her desperately.

“Annabeth no, that’s not what I’m saying, I just meant—”

“I know what you meant,” she snapped over her shoulder, and he recoiled.

“I’m sorry, I’ll tell him I changed my mind and stay in tonight.”

“No, it’s fine.” Annabeth kept her back to him, gathering a few textbooks from her bag and on top of her nightstand. “Just go. I have some homework I can do here. I’m sure Jason is in desperate need of you.”

“Annabeth, I’m sorry,” he pleaded. She’d never been this angry with him, and it made him want to throw up, especially because he knew he deserved it.

“Actually,” she slammed the books down on her nightstand and rounded on him, “it’s not fine. If you’re cheating on me, tell me now so we can deal with it.”

Percy was completely at a loss; the conversation hadn’t just taken an unexpected turn, it had veered off the highway and was plunging through the woods at breakneck speed. _"What?"_

“I’m sick of you sneaking around. You should’ve had the decency to just break up with me, or better yet just but—”

“Whoa, whoa, hang on,” he interrupted. Her eyes were glistening—were those tears? Actual tears?—and her arms were crossed over her chest protectively. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Percy felt the floor slanting under his feet. She thought he was cheating on her? “I’m not…Annabeth, I would never do that, especially not to you.”

She glanced up to meet his gaze. “You’re not?”

Percy was having trouble breathing, and he wanted more than anything to wrap his arms around her but her whole body was hunched slightly and screaming at him to back off, so he clenched and unclenched his fists desperately at his sides. “No way. I love you, Wise Girl, why would you even think…?”

Before he could even finish asking the question, he knew the answer. Staying away from home for long hours, giving faulty excuses and dodging questions…he felt like an idiot. And a jerk. And a lot of other things, none of which were particularly nice.

She supplied him with an answer anyway. “Half the time whoever you claimed to be with either posted on snapchat or texted me, and I can tell when you’re lying,” she explained, softer now. “And usually you actually want to spend time with me.”

“I do,” he rushed, finally letting himself reach out and grab her arms. “I’ve missed you so much this week, you have no idea. I just…” He hesitated. He didn’t want her to know how poorly he was doing in his classes, but lying evidently wasn’t an option. After this, he didn’t think he’d have the heart to lie to her again anyway. And she needed an explanation.

“So where have you been?” Her eyes were clear and hard again.

“Studying,” he finally admitted, releasing her to rub a hand nervously along the back of his neck.

“I’m serious, Percy.”

“So am I,” he protested anxiously. “I’ve really been studying—or, you know, trying to.”

Annabeth frowned at him disbelievingly. “Why would you lie about that?”

Percy knew he couldn’t keep it from her any longer, so he took a deep breath and launched into an explanation of everything that had happened on and since last Thursday.

When he finished, Annabeth studied him a moment longer before declaring, “You really are an idiot.”

The floor fell out from beneath Percy’s feet, and suddenly he was in free fall. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of. And now she wouldn’t want to deal with him, especially after this last week, which meant he’d lose her and probably his team and his scholarship, and—

“But not because you’re failing,” she continued. “You’re an idiot to think you could keep that from me, or that you should in the first place.” Percy’s heart started up again.

“I know,” he sighed, “and I’m sorry. I just…I didn’t want you to think I was stupid like everybody else does.”

Annabeth’s eyes softened, and she stepped forward to press a gentle kiss to his lips. His arms came up and hugged her to him, clinging to her like a lifeline. She broke the kiss but stayed where she was, her arms wrapped around him tightly.

“Percy,” she started, her voice soothing and gentle, lulling like the morning tide. Percy happily let it drag him under. “You are one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. You struggle with classes, but that doesn’t mean you’re stupid, and I never want you to think that, okay?” He nodded against the top of her head where it was tucked against his chest. “I’m gonna help you when I can, and I’m sure Grover will too. Do you know anyone in your classes?”

She was attacking this just as methodically as she would an algebraic equation she was solving, calmly breaking it down until all that was left was the solution, simple and clear and so very obvious, how had he not seen it before?

He nodded again, and she continued, “Good, you can set up some study groups with them when tests are coming up. And I know a few people at the writing and academic centers that could tutor you when you need it. I think studying with other people is gonna be more effective for you, help keep you focused and actually absorbing information.”

Percy wanted to sob, fall to his knees and kiss her feet, worship her and tell her how unworthy he was to have her. As it was, he settled for pressing a kiss to the top of her head and squeezing his arms around her even tighter.

“Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely and hoped she understood.

When she turned her face up to his, he knew she did.

“We’re gonna do this, okay Perce? It’ll take some work, but we’re gonna do it. Together.”

Percy sucked in a shaky breath and prayed his heart wouldn’t actually explode like it was threatening too. “I love you.”

She smiled up at him. “Love you too. Now, after all the time you spent studying this week, I think you’ve earned a break, and there’s another documentary on Netflix I’ve had my eye on.”

Percy laughed as she tugged him by the hand back to the living room, and for the first time since last Thursday, he actually felt like he could get his grades up and keep his spot on the team.

He owed Grover a “you were right and also an amazing friend” pizza, but as Annabeth settled onto the couch with her legs thrown across her lap and her head resting on his shoulder, he figured it could wait.


End file.
